“Aster! Wake up! You aren’t going believe what’s happening!” A dark figured shouted into the thatched hut and disappeared into the bright sunny daylight. The old man jerked his head up from the old dusty tome laid open before him. He wiped the moisture from his mouth and noticed a dark circle soaked into the parchment. A deep thrumming vibrated in his skull and he massaged the back of his neck.
“Aster come on!” The figure had returned and shouted once again for the man. The sudden outburst of sound felt like daggers in his brain. Grumbling and growling he threw on his cloak and stumbled out into the world.

Townsfolk ran to and fro in the village square. Shouting and pointing at the peak of the Meister’s home, Aster glanced up. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, he grumbled to himself that his eyesight must be failing in his advanced age. “Aster, can you believe it?” Said a villager. “Isn’t wonderful! I thought it was a myth!” Said another. I wonder what they are going on about, he thought to himself. He joined the throng moving towards the home of their village elder, the Meister.

As he neared the rustic wooden structure the thrumming grew and grew. He rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers trying to find relief from the pins deep in his grey matter. He looked around and didn’t see anyone else in agony. “Excuse me, Bartleman, is it? Do you hear anything, like a humming or something?” He asked the young man wearing a dirty apron. Aster, guessed that he was the tavern keeper and whatever it was that was going on must be important enough to drag the barman from his tavern. The younger man nodded and pointed to the peak, just like everyone else.

Aster once again looked up at the home and he spotted the life size wooden carving of the legendary hero, Maxim. The thrumming grew to a deafening roar. Aster grimaced and held his head. “Aster? You okay?” Bartleman asked. The thrumming sound abated for a moment allowing the old man to glance up once more. It was then that he saw what everyone else had already known. The wooden carving held an equally wooden sword aloft. Atop its head was a painted crown encrusted with rocks painted bright colors to look like precious gems. In the statues other hand he held a crystal sphere the size of a mans head. It glowed brightly and in time with the thrumming. Aster’s eyes flew wide as understanding flooded through him. “It’d can’t be!” He said to himself.

Everyone man, woman and child knew the legend of Maxim the Great and his battle with the dragon, Fangore the Fearsome. Over a hundred years ago, the dragon had come from the north, terrorizing village after village, eating the livestock and incinerating any and all that stood in its way. Maxim, the villages bravest defender, swore to protect them. He set out with a squad of the toughest and roughest men to confront the dragon before he came to their village. Only Maxim returned, bloody and burnt, but alive. He brought with him a crystal sphere. The same sphere that the dragon had guarded with its last dying breath. Rumors swirled that the crystal wasn’t a crystal at all but instead was a dragon egg that would hatch when the the last hero fell in battle and to bring about the rise of the dragons. Many thought it was a myth and just a story to scare the children. The townsfolk erected the statue after Maxim died in honor of his feats. The crystal was placed in the statues hand and the story fell into legend. Until now.

Aster gazed up at the crystal, now pulsing in rhythm with the thrumming in his skull and the pace was quickening. Aster glanced around the crowd and saw only smiling faces and laughing children. Many sang Maxim’s praises and recounted the legend. Why aren’t they hearing the sound? He thought. His eyes darted about as sweat beaded on his forehead. The thrumming reached a crescendo and suddenly stopped. Aster’s eyes shot up to the brightly glowing orb. His stomach churned and his chest thumped loudly. *CRACK! A jagged line appeared in the orb.
“Oh. no. Doom is upon us.” Aster muttered as another jagged line appeared followed by another and another. The voices had died away and all eyes were on the orb. A sudden high pitched whine echoed through the village, dropping everyone but Aster to their knees. The orb suddenly shattered, sending dull white shards flying into the air. A cloud of smoke hung in the air, and many that were present that day told their children that they had seen death as it took to the air.

John slowly opened his eyes and blinked against the bright sunlight streaming into the room. He yawned mightily and stretched his arms wide as he struggled to rise from his warm bed. He glanced at his alarm clock and smirked as he once again woke before the alarm went off. He flicked the tiny switch on the side of the device and listened to the voices of the morning announcers talking about the days events. John scratched his butt cheek as he shambled into the bathroom. “…so okay folks, don’t forget. Today is the day we all pay tribute to our glorious leader, Emperor Trump!” Said a deep gravely voice.
“THat’s right my fellow Americans. Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree, flag the new flag and make sure you are near. a television this evening at 6pm local time.” John jolted out of the bathroom, eyes wide, white foam dripping from his lips. “Emperor Trump? Emperor? New flag?” What the hell is that about? John thought. Maybe it’s someone’s idea of a joke. He turned off the radio and jumped in the shower. Two hours later John walked into the short non-description office building, oblivious to the red, white and black flag flying from the flagpole. The elevator dinged and doors slide open as John hurried out and navigated his way to his desk.
“John? What are you doing here?” John’s head shot up as he spied his boss, Bill Corder, moving towards him. Bill looked furious as he huffed and puffed his way through the cubicles. John glanced at this watch just making sure he wasn’t late. “What’re you talking about? I work here. I’ve got a deadline coming up and I’m pretty busy, Bill.” “Uh, no you don’t!” JOhn looked at his boss quizzically. “What’re you talking about? I don’t what? Have a deadline or a job?” “Both! You quit three months ago. In fact, how did you get in here?” Bill glanced around for one of the newly installed security guards. He spied the tall, burly man standing near the emergency exit and started waving wildly and pointing at John. “Bill, what are you talking about? of course I work here. I’ve worked here for eight years and I’m pretty busy…”. John’s voice trailed off as he neared his cubicle and suddenly noticed that he didn’t recognize the faces staring at him. “Where’s Sarah?” He asked to the nearest stranger. “Who’s Sarah?” John’s eyes spun about and he blinked rapidly. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow and he vaguely started to notice his hands and feet getting clammy. Suddenly a strange anthem of music started playing on the speakers mounted on the walls. Everyone rose and turned towards the windows and placed their hands across their chests. John turned about and saw Bill following suit.
“Bill, what is going on..” “Shut up John, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” “Bill, what the FU-“ “Sir, I need you to come with me.” A deep voice boomed from behind the men. John spun around while Bill stayed motionless. The security guard reached out and grasped John’s upper arm in a vice like grip. John spotted a strange flag on the man’s uniform and some strange writing below it. “NO! GET OFF ME! “. John tried to break free from the man’s grip. The guard scowled and pulled his firearm from the holster on his hip. Without a missing a beat the guard pointed it at John and pulled the hammer back with his thumb.
“One.” He growled. John saw the gun and began to struggle harder. “Two.” The guard said low. Tears began to stream down John’s face as the thought of defeat entered his brain. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?” JOhn bellowed to the hundred eyes watching his execution. “You disrespected Emperor Trump’s National Anthem and you are trespassing.” The guard said forcefully. “Don’t you mean President Trump?” John said rhetorically. The guards eyebrows furrowed, as he cocked his head slowly to the side. “He hasn’t been President for almost a year. Did you suffer a traumatic brain injury.” The guards grip lessened. “Did you!?!” John sensed his chance and jerked his arm free. He spun about and started running for the exit. He heard his heart pounding in his ears as pieces of the wall next to his head exploded. He ducked and dove for the door. His body slammed into the door. He reached up and fumbled with he handle and as he struggled the hulking guard appeared from behind him. John thought he was home free just as the first bullet punctured his back and travelled through his spine and into his heart killing him instantly. His body fell to the ground as blood poured forth. The security guard pushed JOhn’s body away from the doorway and carefully reloaded his sidearm. He jammed it into the holster and spun about to face the office workers. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call housekeeping staff.” Bill mumbled as he hurried off to the safety of his office.